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Being a “party girl”…in my 30’s…the idea instantly makes me light up…OH! the overall “fun-ness” of having all the knowledge of my 20’s mixed in with an appetite for a social life that cannot be quenched and a face that most do not believe belongs to someone over 30. I love parties, I live for my social life – I cling to it, I crave it. I’m still a little stuck in a limbo of loving my 20’s and trying to transition into a more mature 30-something year old that many of my friends have talked to me about; however, I’ve learned to balance having insane fun and being a responsible, mature adult–not that most people would know that since all I show is the other side.

So as I’m writing this the image of a Sex and the City episode is flashing in my head. The one where Carrie does a “30 and Fabulous!” article/photo shoot and it ends up being a “30 and Fabulous?” (note the question mark) article, with the image of her rough from a night of partying and smoking and just looking extremely OLD… um…is that ME??

I haven’t stopped the GO, GO, GO since I got divorced in my mid 20’s from an over controlling man who didn’t let me have friends or a life of my own…I’m actually afraid that if I do stop and slow down, age will somehow catch up with me, manifest itself and somehow crawl out from under my bed and attack me, move me to suburbia and I will become my greatest fear…OLD and BORING.

Thirty. I still haven’t accepted it – even though I’m working up to 4 years into Team 30, I never hid the fact that I prayed to God to stop time, then tried to barter with the Devil to keep me in my 20’s. I cried on my 30th birthday like I was Ann Boleyn waiting for her execution and then put on the most scandalous outfit that I could possibly find to go toe to toe with Father Time and raged into my thirties with the conviction of a lunatic. All the while I was screaming in my head, “Please! I don’t want to grow up. Give me just a little longer!!!” Why am I one of those that has such a hard time with 30? Since I can remember I thought 30 was the dying age. No man wants a girl in her THIRTIES for heaven’s sake. They leave their 30 year old girlfriend or wife and trade for a younger girl in her 20’s. How do I know this? My father was one of those men.

I have been a self proclaimed party girl since my divorce. I took my first single, unattached trips to Vegas in my 30’s. The first trip came 3 days fresh from a very bad break up. I now live for my “girls” trips to Las Vegas. How different that Vegas trip was when single, no one to answer to and I was able to do what I wanted when I wanted and with whom I wanted…the best part about it was that I didn’t even care what the hell their names were. I’ve been proposed to in Italian and French there by very rich and powerful men. And, I insulted them my laughing in their faces. Yes, they spent even more on me. I’ve been invited to fashion shows, given clothes that hadn’t even been put out for next season, VIP’d with the stars. (You get the picture!) I admit it, I have been fortunate. I don’t have the Elite status of Paris Hilton or the look of an overly busty centerfold, but I do hold my own. It is a luxury that I earned in my super over crazy 20’s, working my way onto guest lists, VIP lists, getting my picture into columns and on websites until people knew my face and my name. My calculating 20 something days combined with an I don’t care I’ll do anything attitude have followed me into my 30-something years. I know how to be the “It” girl. I know how to spot that man that will buy me and my friends drinks and have him feel privileged he got to spend some money on me. When I am ON I am confident. I am invincible. I am wanted, coveted and untouchable. It is what I’m good at. I know THIS.

Thirty, as much as I tried to fight it, has brought me to a whole new level. I’m “solid” with what I know, and I’m much more comfortable in my own skin (which I love to expose as much of as possible). I do look at the other end of the world of calming down…watching friend after friend announce they’re engaged, getting married, having kids, and as much as I’d like to be them, the thought of possibly being suffocated again freaks me out and sends me into a whirlwind panic attack. With a drink in my hand, music and a ton of people around I am free. In my freedom, I throw my head back and laugh with my whole being. Now, I know that being in your 30’s one should be thinking about settling down. Well, I’ll be happy to oblige with someone who understands that I need to let loose and have fun every once in a while. Someone who understands that I have a need to be looked at and wanted but will never actually allow anyone to touch. If that someone were to come along and choose to join his path with mine, that would be absofuckinlutely great – especially if that path has a party stop or two…with a touch of Vegas thrown in.

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